


The Devil You Know

by Mr_Skurleton



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Biting, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Minor Character Death, Neck Kissing, Tragedy, Vampires, War, character driven, families can be annoying, maybe smut, non dragonborn character, oblivion, odd couple, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Skurleton/pseuds/Mr_Skurleton
Summary: Keelan isn't much of a mage by anyone's standards. Only familiar with the school of restoration and uncomfortable with the idea of disappointing her family further with her failure at the College of Winterhold, she gets it into her head to run off and disappear into the vast wilderness of Skyrim. But a last favor for a friend and the ill fated purchase of a rose shaped staff sends that dream up in flames. Now with a 'companion' she can't be rid of and a misconception she's reluctant to correct she must navigate the mine field that is the world of magic, love and her own family.  At least she'll have some help along the way.





	1. Prologue: An Opening Served Cold

  
  


They were going to catch her. 

Her heart was in her throat. Her lungs burned as she sucked down frigid air past the suffocating press of her own pulse. She didn’t dare stop to catch her breath. No chance to glance behind to see how close they were. If she spared even a moment then she risked tripping on gnarled roots or long snow drifts. No, she could only stare ahead and pray.

 

The flicker of trees as she sprinted past lost their shape and meaning in the dark. She spared them only enough thought to avoid running into them. It had been a mistake to leave the road. She’d thought that cover would help. That she’d be able to lose them amid the thick underbrush. She’d been wrong. 

 

The sound of their laughter was more chilling than the wind shrieking through the trees, their taunts rising and falling back as they toyed with her. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed a darker shape rushing through the trees. Just a little reminder that they could catch her when ever they pleased. Their undead bodies did not care about the freezing night sapping heat and strength away from living flesh. She was foolish for thinking she could outrun a pack of vampires. 

 

They’d catch her. Of that there was no doubt. But Keelan would be damned if she didn’t make them work for it.

 

Up ahead the treeline broke at the foot of a mountain and hope gave her a renewed burst of adrenaline as she spotted the outline of a building at its base. If she could just get close enough. If she could just catch her breath enough to scream. She never saw the hand that struck her.

 

Icy white pain shot through her as the blow sent her careening down a steep embankment of snow. Her flesh had long since lost the ability to feel the sting of scraps and cuts when ice, sharpened upon winter’s grindstone, clawed into her skin. She clawed back, throwing herself forward just as she felt their breath against her neck. 

 

Yanked up and held in the grip of a single pale hand, Keelan struck out with her hands only to have them slapped away.

 

“Come now little rabbit. Haven’t you had your fill of running?” Silver eyes in a once elven face, a smile more sinister than a serpent’s bared fangs, her captor pulled her close enough to feel the spill of his words against her skin. “Why don’t we play another game? I think you’ll like that one much better.” 

 

Keelan tried to strike at him again but found her arms would not obey, her body going limp under the press of the vampire’s bespelling gaze. Only her heart seemed still willing to fight, thumping loudly in her chest as if she stood a chance. 

 

The creature cradled her face in a grip like cold iron just as the others caught up with them.

 

“Quite the pretty catch isn’t she?” The accent was Colovian and feminine, its owner hidden beneath a thick cloak. She hadn’t been with the other two when this doomed chase had started, of that Keelan was sure.  But the third? The Dunmer male still wearing his stolen Vigilant of Stendarr robes? Absolutely, and Keelan cursed herself for not catching on to their lie sooner.

 

“Indeed, I’m almost tempted to expand our little family.” This from the Bosmer male still holding her aloft. He ran a thumb over the crest of Keelan’s cheek and down until it pressed against her paralysed lips.  “How about it bunny? Want to live forever?” 

 

His spell offered her no chance to rebuke. Not that he’d have liked the answer curled upon her stilled tongue. 

 

“It might be nice having a mage around,” the female purred as she circled them, no doubt spying the staff strapped to Keelan’s pack. 

 

“A fair point.” 

Keelan wanted to shiver as the Bosmer’s silver eyes turned back to her. Fortune had gifted him a once handsome face but death had robbed it of color and kindness, his skin sallow and waxy beneath the shade of his yellow hood and sable hair. “Perhaps we should put her through her paces?” The way the words rolled from his mouth made each sound salacious and obscene. His face drew close as his hand forced Keelan’s chin up and to the right. She saw his mouth open and braced for the pain that would follow as the skin at her throat fell prey to his teeth. 

 

All at once she was thrown backwards, tumbling through the snow as the vampire who had bitten her and his Dunmer clanmate clashed together. The Dunmer’s face was pinched in a snarl, his features rawboned and gaunt.

“We agreed that the next one we caught would be mine.” The words were spat with near tangible venom as the air crackled with the promise of violence. 

 

“You idiot.” The Bosmer was picking himself up out of the snow and dusting it from his robes. “If we want her to obey then I need to thrall her. What about that do you not understand?”

 

Keelan didn’t care if she was likely no better off with the second than she had been with the first, she knew that this might be her last chance, and if she wanted to see another dawn then she had to act now. 

 

In the struggle, most of her possessions had been scattered. She couldn’t see the small knife that had once been nestled in her robes, nor any of the scrolls that Jhz’argo had given her. What she did see was the pointed end of a staff, whose properties she didn’t know, sticking out of the churned snow little more than a foot from her. As the third vampire turned her attention from her bickering clanmates to the source of their quarrel, Keelan whispered a single prayer and dove for the staff.

 

Its ice coated shaft slid along her hand until one of the carved thorns caught in her palm, giving her the second she needed to tighten her grip on it and to face her enemy head on. 

She didn’t know what to expect as she swung the wooden rose into the face of the oncoming vampire. She prayed for the sickening smack of wood slamming into flesh, she feared what would happen if she heard nothing at all.


	2. Not Quite What You Bargained For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might seem a touch confusing given the prologue but don't worry, it will make sense in a bit.

Keelan looked into the depths of her wine glass and wondered if one of her fellow apprentices might have had something stronger. She was seated in her room in the Hall of Attainment with glass in hand and several sheets of parchment spread out on the table beside her, inbetween she and the rest of her bottle. She reached for said bottle anyway, ignoring the tight lettering of her mother's handwriting but half wondering how many quills had been sacrificed during the letter's creation. Judging by the volume of pages, Keelan would have confidently bet at least a dozen.

The young mage slouched further down in her chair and mulled over both the contents of the glass and of the letter despite both being neither mystery nor puzzle. Her glass was filled with the product of fermented grapes and heavy spices, the letter full of things she'd heard and read in a hundred other conversations and correspondences she'd had with her mother.

When these facts became mind numbing, she allowed her eyes to slide beneath a thin glaze of alcohol to take in the entirety of her quarters. The bed she had her feet propped against was comfortable enough, the decor tolerable since she'd taken most of it down the day she'd arrived, and the floor was barely visible beneath the clutter she seemed to accumulate at an alarming rate. It was familiar but nothing like her old home, which was just the way she liked it. It had been perfect but now the veneer had been scratched and distorted.

From beyond her doorframe the soft snoring of Onmund could be heard in the next room over, a fitful rumble as the young nord tossed around in his sleep. Keelan considered asking him if he had anything headier to drink but reconsidered after only a moment. Doing so would wake him and if she did that he might ask questions. Instead she finished her drink and rose from her chair trying to ferret out where she'd placed her largest pack.

The moons were sinking fast when Keelan entered the courtyard, her now stuffed pack over her shoulders and an armful of borrowed books cradled against her chest. That first slap of gelid air always got to her and she couldn't stop the shiver that rattled through her thin frame. Almost a year spent this far north yet she still felt like it was her first time experiencing that bone numbing cold. Still, she had to admit it made the courtyard look lovely. Particularly the statue in the middle, shimmering in blue light and dusted in snow as it always was. She gave its leg a pat as she passed, figuring it would be odd to verbally say goodbye to a hunk of carved stone even if there was no one to see her.

The Hall of Elements was silent. Despite the odd hours the others kept, no lecture began or ran past midnight. However, the lack of noise didn't mean the hall was empty. Keelan could just make out a silhouette against one of the far off columns. She could hazard a guess as to who it was, given the tall yet narrow stature and the prickling sensation that ran across her skin when its attention landed on her. She knew better than to approach, Ancano had made it quite clear that her company was not something he desired in any capacity. Of course this might be the last time she saw him…

Keelan shook her head and chided herself for getting so worked up over it, turning instead to head up to the Arcanaeum.

There was no one reading in the alcove at the top of the stairs and none of the candles were lit in the room proper. 'Good,' she thought, no company meant no one could talk her out of her plans. The room's only light was the tall stained glass window near the stairs, which while beautiful, still left the room in near utter darkness. Keelan waited for her eyes to adjust and then questioned why she bothered. The Arcanaeum was such a familiar haunt of hers she probably could have navigated it in her sleep.

She trudged over to Urag's desk and laid the books she'd borrowed down on the first unoccupied spot she found. A part of her worried the old Orc would be offended that she didn't say goodbye in person, then again another part wondered if he actually enjoyed her company or just put up with it. Still, she dug into the side pocket of her pack and produced a small tome wrapped in tissue paper, this she placed beneath the rest of the stack so it would be discovered last.

After that incident with the flame atronach, Keelan figured Urag could use a copy of 'The Wild Elves' to replace the one he'd lost. Keelan had left similar packages in the rooms of her colleagues, nothing fancy just stuff she couldn't take with her that she thought they might like. She'd even left one for Ancano though she doubted he'd make use of it, or even open it for that matter.

With one last look at the familiar line of bookcases and well cushioned chairs, Keelan felt she was ready to leave and not look back. That was until a gruff voice stopped her mid step.

"You know the new life festival isn't for a couple of months right?" Urag growled in what sounded like a yawn. Sitting around the corner of a partial wall Keelan had completely missed his presence. Then again she'd assumed the lack of light meant an equal lack of people so perhaps she hadn't looked very hard in the first place.

"I know, it's just that I won't be here for it, so I figured now was the best time." Keelan wondered if there would come a day where she wouldn't sound like a sheepish child.

Urag seemed to ponder her words for a moment, leaning over the arm of his chair and squinting in her direction.

"I see, well if you're going travelling for a bit perhaps you'd be willing to do me a favor." He rose from his chair with a groan and a stretch before coming to stand on the other side of his desk. Keelan waited for him to go on, chewing on her lip in indecision. The elder mage ducked for a moment behind the desk and began rummaging through the shelves underneath. Keelan was on the verge of offering to conjure a magelight to help him see but the memory of her last attempt made the offer die on her lips.

"I've a shipment of void salts coming into Dawnstar on a ship. Fine cut and refined by the best. As you can imagine they're hard to get."

Keelan nodded, though to be sure her knowledge of void salts extended only as far as the fact that they smelled like burnt air.

"Only problem is the captain is charging me extra to have them delivered to the college. Some nonsense about couriers being hard to come by."

Keelan followed his logic without him having to finish. She also wished she was better at saying no.

* * *

 

The road to Dawnstar was wet, freezing and miserable. Keelan had opted to take the route along the coast because on her map it looked quicker. Of course her map hadn't mentioned the shore would be teeming with horkers, and hungry bears nor that it would be colder than a frost giant's left nipple. The salt mixing with the ice in the wind left her cheeks chapped and her throat and nose burning after little more than an hour.

It wasn't all bad though, if anything the landscape kept her from becoming bored and she'd even stumbled upon a statue of Talos standing stoically against the bitter winds. Of course one glance to her left brought the outline of Azura's shrine into view and Keelan had a chuckle over the fact that a daedric shrine utterly dwarfed a shrine to Talos even in the homeland of the nords.

There were ruins out this way too, if a bit farther up the path. While they were interesting to look at from afar, they were not something Keelan would go near. The young mage was painfully aware of how lucky she was that the few bears she saw preferred to hunt the slower and meatier horkers. She wasn't stupid enough to think bandits or draugr would do the same.

After nearly a day's worth of walking, Keelan got her first look of Dawnstar.

It was a lighthouse... only minus the house part. A large work of stone, high on a hill and signalling civilization. Well at least as much as you could find this far north. With night falling swiftly, the exhausted mage clambered up the hill and gazed down at a miserable looking little village.

Dawnstar was at least in better shape than Winterhold, if only because the majority of its houses were still serviceable. She passed the first on the outskirts and noted with curiosity its banner hung porch. The symbol on the fluttering and damaged cloth was familiar to her, a golden sun on a backdrop of crimson that she'd seen in her history books as a child. Keelan shivered as she looked at them and knew it was not from the cold. Why anyone would hang such a vile symbol on their home was beyond her and she wasn't about to knock and ask the owner either.

From there the houses all started to blend together, even as they grew more numerous and closely packed. The only two that stood out were what she assumed was the Jarl's hall and the inn which lay farther down the street. Keelan shrugged her pack up on her shoulder and was reminded of how much lighter it was since last night. It hadn't been something she could help though, if she hadn't shed some of the weight she wouldn't have room for Urag's void salts. Besides it wasn't as if she couldn't repack once this favor was completed.

The crowd of the street was thickest near the inn, people heading for a drink after a day's work or coming from the evening meal and heading home. Being tall but pitifully thin, the young Altmer had little hope of elbowing her way through. So it was a great relief when someone else split the crowd for her. Or perhaps it was more of a couple of someone's, a handsome looking but oddly dressed Altmer and a towering Orc, before which the rest of the townsfolk fell away like water around a boulder.

'Unsurprising.' Keelan thought as she stepped into their wake and followed them until she reached the inn, 'Only a fool would stand in the way of such a hulking brute.' As she watched the pair disappear down the road the image they presented only stuck out to her more, it wasn't until someone coughed politely that she realized she was blocking the way.

"Oh… my apologies."

"Its not a problem miss," a sheepish looking fellow with soot smeared clothes and face answered. "Those are college robes ain't they? The wizard one o'er in Winterhold?"

His unamused friend made a sort of snorting hmph behind him and shoved past them both.

Keelan nodded and walked inside as he held the door for her, "I'm on a bit of an errand, but the road was a bit more difficult than I expected." She hoped this brief explanation would cut off any further questions. No such luck befell her.

"Suppose most are these days." he nodded sagely as if he had never uttered something so profound. Keelan wondered if alcohol would make her current company more bearable. "But surely horkers don't give you wizards much trouble. Bet you know all kind of tricks and stuff that would send even the bears running." Keelan felt the right side of her upper lip twitch and swiftly beckoned for the innkeeper.

* * *

 

Keelan awoke to the smell of woodsmoke and the sight of the mounted deer head hanging above her rented bed. It had startled her in those first few seconds as she fell out of the embrace of slumber and back into her room at the Windpeak inn, now she merely took it in with the rest of her surroundings. The two-third wall that separated her room from the one next to it, the table beside her bed whose surface lay buried beneath a pile of books, parchment and clothing, the chair that sat next to it which held the rest of her clothing, the chest at the foot of her bed whose key she didn't have and therefore couldn't use, the chest of drawers beyond that upon which sat her empty pack and the parcels she'd been sent to retrieve, and finally the doorway through which the inn beyond could be seen.

She'd never understand why Skyrim's architects seemed so dead set against putting interior doors in their buildings or perhaps against privacy as a whole. Even the college seemed to favor that same doorless design when it came to sleeping quarters, a fact that was often a source of irritation for her. Just one more thing about northern culture she'd likely never be comfortable with.

A quick glance at the frosted glass panes above her head informed her she'd slept in later than she'd intended. This realization did not bother her, between the stiffness in her legs and the peculiar difference in temperature between under the covers and the rest of the room, Keelan had little motivation to get a quick start to her day. True, she should have been on the road back to Winterhold yesterday, but the more she thought about it, the less she wanted to be up, let alone on the road.

When she did finally rise and resign herself to the act of interacting with other beings, it was with sluggish movements and no shortage of yawns. In the inn proper the proprietor Thoring, didn't so much greet her as he did acknowledge her presence. The innkeeper's attention lay elsewhere, specifically on his daughter and the two males who she was currently conversing with. This suited Keelan just fine, allowing her to slip into a seat near the fire and engage in her third favorite hobby.

There were few other patrons given the time of day. Which was fortunate in that there was less chatter to tune out in order to eavesdrop on the conversation she was interested in. It wasn't that anything said stood out to her, the usual fair of daily gossip sprinkled into small talk was nothing new. No, the real draw was the two males whose names still escaped her, that same mountain of an Orc and oddly dressed Altmer. Although, now that she'd seen the latter from the front she wasn't sure if there wasn't a bit of Bosmer in him too. Back home such a sight would have meant nothing, but Skyrim was a world unto itself and in a place like Dawnstar the two stood out something fierce.

The rest of the townsfolk didn't seem to think so, giving the two so little attention that it became its own layer of mystery on top of all the rest. Still she couldn't spend the whole afternoon staring at strangers simply because of their perceived strangeness, her stomach's displeased growl was an abrupt reminder of more basic needs.

after a less than memorable breakfast and an hour spent trying to repack her belongings now that she had more things to take with her, Keelan was finally ready to leave Dawnstar behind after only two nights in its borders. At least that was until she saw the fur tents of the khajiit caravan.

Her feet had paused long before she'd made up her mind on whether or not to peruse their wares. Her eyes flicking from trinket to weapon to sundry good as swiftly as was possible while maintaining an air of slight disinterest. To be sure there wasn't much that earned a second look over, the odd book that she couldn't recall having read yet, a particularly shiny bit of jewelry, an ingredient whose likeness she'd never seen and so on. There was only one thing her eyes kept returning to over and over again, a long wooden staff carved in the shape of a rose.

"This one has good eyes, this staff is one of a kind." The rich accent of the merchant did little to make Keelan believe her, having heard plenty of lines concerning 'one of a kind' items before.

"It is nice, but I've no use for a decorative staff."

"Ah then it is good that this is no mere object of decoration." A graceful feline hand removed the staff carefully from where it lay and held it out to Keelan just as its owner's face broke into a slick smile. " This one is a mage yes? Can you not feel the power humming from inside?"

In truth she didn't feel anything. The wood had a pleasant warmth and smoothness to it but no more than any other piece of fine and well sanded timber. "Even if it is enchanted I'm not sure what use it will be to me. How much are you looking to get for it anyway?"

"Three thousand septims."

Keelan couldn't help but laugh. Not that there was anything inherently humorous about the situation, simply that her body couldn't come up with an appropriate response to such a large sum of gold. Especially for something that could be no more than an overly ornate walking stick. Seeing the Khajiit's round ears flatten against her head did cut the girl's laughter short however.

"Why? One of a kind or not that is a very high asking price." She handed the staff back but continued to linger at the edge of the Khajiit's rug of wares. The merchant seemed likewise caught in indecision, peering up into Keelan's face with what the mage thought was suspicion mixed with curiosity. It was only a hazarded guess though, not having had much practice in reading feline faces.

"It is was a hard item to come by, many collectors would pay dearly to have it." The Khajiit leaned forward, her words taking on a distinctive hissing sound. "It was crafted by a daedric lord."

Keelan opened her mouth and then shut it again, rolling around what she wanted to say on her tongue until the words tasted right.

"It's illegal to have daedric artifacts…" she said after a moment, her eyes shifting from the merchant down to the staff and back again. "So either you're trying to sell it quickly to avoid problems with the law… or… it's just an ordinary staff and none of those collectors you mentioned have bought your bluff yet."

It was the merchant's turn to open and close her mouth, finally settling on baring her teeth at the troublesome girl. Keelan didn't wait for the excuse or counter accusation to come as she crouched down on the other side of the rug and started digging through her pack.

"Tell you what, I've got six hundred septims and a couple of things that should be easier for you to sell. I'd be willing to trade…"

"This one must be touched by The Skooma Cat to think Ahkari would make such a foolish deal."

Keelan ignored that comment and continued pulling things out of her bag. When she'd finished there were four large soul gems minus souls, a copy of 'The Doors of Oblivion' as well as a copy of 'Shadowmarks', a single potion of cure disease and two of plentiful healing lying between she and the cat. On top of this neat pile she sat her purse and waited while the Khajiit looked over her offer.

"Its about half of what you were asking for the staff and all of this is legal to own. No fuss and you don't have to worry about the guard coming after you." To make her point, Keelan inclined her head ever so slightly to a Dawnstar guard coming down the path.

Ahkari followed the gesture and quickly hid her snarl.

"Threatening does not win this one any favors."

"Perhaps, but I haven't got all day either."

Ahkari spat in the snow and let her tail flick behind her.

"Take it and be out of Ahkari's sight, may it bring you as much misfortune as it has Ahkari."

Keelan resisted the urge to grin as she snatched up the staff and straightened once more. "Fair travels to you too." she said over her shoulder to the quietly cursing cat.

* * *

 

The road out of Dawnstar was pleasant enough given the grey skies and bitter winds. The chest-high walls sporadically rising in broken glory from the snow drifts broke up the scenery somewhat but what she could see beyond them was pretty in a way. Firs and pines interspersed against the black and white backdrop of Skyrim's peaks provided a harsh sort of beauty and Keelan could appreciate that. She also wondered what the forest must look like in the spring and summer, with hardy grasses sprouting blooms and and color through those brief months of sunlight.

Casting her eyes up to the blanket clouds Keelan cursed at a bleary little patch slightly brighter than all the rest. It wasn't the weather that gave her such ire, Winterhold had done a fair job in acclimating her to dismal skies. Rather it was the sun itself, sinking off into the west far too quick for her liking.

She'd decided to take the actual road back to the college, figuring the chance of wild animal encounters would be lesser. But that didn't mean she wanted to spend a night on it or travel it in the dark by herself.

But she'd given the Khajiit all her coin so even if she turned back she'd likely be sleeping outside. Muttering no shortage of curses in aldmeri, she trudged onward.

The first sign of trouble was a shrill whistling that seemed to be following her. It had started right after she'd left the road in order to give a giant's camp a wide berth and now it seemed to grow louder with each moment she spent off the road proper. Keelan had blamed the wind at first, another entity that was making her life more difficult. But the wind had a howl of its own and was less consistent in pitch. She'd checked over her shoulder a dozen times but with the snow; which had started just before the wind picked up, it was difficult to see anything. Still she could feel her teeth grinding together as the sound began to claw and ring inside her skull.

The second sign was a creak that snapped her head to the side and provided the answer to a question she wished she didn't have. There was no third sign, the moment it knew it had been spotted, the ice wraith flew at her with a speed she couldn't match. It struck like a serpent that had no need for muscles or flesh, hollow fangs tearing through her sleeve and grazing the skin beneath. Her right arm was numb even before her scream hit the back of her teeth.

To her credit Keelan didn't harbor any notions of bravado. She also didn't waste time screaming beyond that initial reaction. Instead, she ran. Pushing through snowberry bushes and vaulting snow drifts. When her feet hit stone her heart leapt in her chest, if she could just stay on the road… if she could just stay ahead of it, then maybe it would give up or perhaps the divines would smile on her and set a guardsman in her path. Hell she'd even take a stormcloak patrol if it meant surviving.

But her luck seemed even better, for after sprinting around a turn she ran into not one, but two people both wearing instantly recognized vigilant of Stendarr robes. With the wraith still gnashing teeth just a few paces back, Keelan let the situation speak for itself as she swiftly dove behind the nearest able looking body. To be sure it was no contest between two weapon wielding strangers and a solitary ice wraith. In a matter of minutes there was nothing left of the creature except its head sitting on a pile of shards. The mage was so relieved she honestly felt like kissing the handsome Bosmer she'd sheltered behind.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed the story thus far please consider validating my beleaguered existence by leaving it a review or a kudo. It pleases the dread father.


	3. The Lesser of Two Evils

_In her struggle, most of her possessions had been scattered. She didn't see the small knife that had once been nestled in her robes, nor any of the scrolls that J'zargo had given her. What she did see was the pointed end of a staff, whose properties she didn't know, sticking out of the churned snow nary a foot from her. As the third vampire turned her attention from her bickering clanmates to the source of their ire, Keelan whispered a single prayer and dove for the staff._

_It's ice coated shaft slid along her hand until one of the carved thorns caught in her palm, giving her the second she needed to tighten her grip on it and to face her enemy head on._

_She didn't know what to expect as she swung the wooden rose into the face of the oncoming vampire. She prayed for the sickening smack of wood slamming into flesh, she feared what would happen if she heard nothing at all._

Her eyes were squeezed shut with echoes of a blinding light projected against the inside of her eyelids. A spectral wind, the breath of a world untouchable and scorching, wrapped around her shoulders and crawled its way into her throat. It strangled the whimper laying on her tongue and filled her mouth with a taste so bitter she couldn't stand to swallow. The bile from her gut churned and threatened to spill forth, nausea an unwelcome guest to a party that none would wish to attend.

"Run…"

If smoke could pool and flow in rivulets down flesh, if it could be heard rather than seen, it might have come close to the sound playing along her spine in that moment. No race of mer nor man spoke in such echoed tones and despite her every raw nerve pleading that she not do so, Keelan could not stop herself from opening her eyes.

There were four figures where once only three had been, and the mage tried to make herself as small as possible against the rock surface behind her. Three sets of silver eyes, three sets of lips snarling and dripping with froth. But there was one shadow standing between she and them, Keelan's mind could not make sense of it. It was as if someone had halted time, the snow still fell and the wind still raked its claws over everything in sight, but not a soul moved, raised weapons remained frozen in clenched fists and rapt attention.

The vampire who had lunged for her initially paid her no attention now. Its fangs bared, eyes maniacal, only its face was visible from behind the mobile shield that stood between she and her prey. It was a shield the night itself seemed to have hurled to the earth, a body composed of jagged edges in hues darker than oblivion. A twisted form that exhaled malice and promised pain never before imagined. The other two vampires kept their distance for even the hungriest snake would not swallow thorns willingly.

"Run!"

The voice was not in her head, there was nothing in her head but fear and fear did not speak with such contempt. The young Altmer didn't have time to question it. Though her legs threatened to spill her once more into the snow, she pulled herself up with quivering hands. That single motion caused the avalanche that sent time crashing back down upon all of them.

Metal sang to metal as primal screams lashed out upon all who could hear them and Keelan fled to the charred remains of the hall of the Vigilant.

* * *

' _Fool._ ' He had been summoned by a fool. Seris could see the girl's floundering form from the corner of his eye and resisted the urge to growl. Now wasn't the time to dwell on inconveniences, there was blood to spill.

His opponents were not of mortal stock, of that the Dremora was certain. Mortals could be cowed, mortals let fear tangle their movements, they did not smell of decay-less death, they didn't circle like wolves with fangs bared. Against three mortals it would have been no contest, but with this new realization settling into his senses, he wasn't so sure.

* * *

Keelan fought to catch her breath and her thoughts. Outside she could still hear it, that awful ringing noise punctuated by thicker and more sickly thuds. In her mind she couldn't keep it out, fear lapping at the inside of her skull and along every raw nerve to its morbid tune. Putting half destroyed walls between she and the fighting beyond hadn't really done much it seemed.

Inside the husk of the once proud hall, it was difficult to discern what had once been wood and what had been mortal flesh. Had she time to think, to pause and consider the horror she stood among, Keelan might have lost the battle to stay conscious and upright.

As it was, her frantic eyes darted from pile to pile, knowing that hiding was likely a pointless endeavor but sure that it was her only option. But those precious moments wasted choking on indecision and trembling against a charred support beam had left her exposed and tempting.

"If you die… it dies…"

Pale fingers, crushing in their grip, held her fast by the throat as needle tipped teeth grazed the hammering pulse snaking its way beneath Keelan's strained flesh. Arms wrenched behind her back, Keelan kicked herself backwards and was rewarded with a crack and burst of stars in her vision when her skull slammed into that of her attacker's. That momentary daze she did not waste, jerking her arms free as her sleeves were rent from her and scrambling for the nearest scrap of cover.

Platters, bits of board and even chunks of snow were shoved between she and snapping jaws as she crawled upon elbow and kicking foot, unable to use her hands for anything but defense. Beneath a still standing table she prayed to find cover but an inhuman hand tore it from the floor and sent it crashing into a wall provoking an explosion of splintered debris. Those Keelan could deal with, not so for the heel of a boot that smashed down on her outstretched hand, crushing down until fragile bones snapped beneath the force.

Again the twisted shape of the Dremora intervened, wrenching the vampire off of his feet and plunging a blade betwixt the undead elf's ribs. The vampire's keening shriek was an ear splitting cry that lingered long after his body had fallen to ash upon the floor, as if silence too did not know how to react.

* * *

His gut was on fire.

From beneath his blood stained cuirass he could feel his time on Nirn slipping away. Seris would have laughed had he the strength to do so. It was such a pity, a world of wonder lay beyond the broken walls he now peered through, beyond the bloodied and churned snow. But his sight was fading and so was he, bound back for Oblivion in a few minutes if he had to guess.

"Arm yourself caitiff, there may yet be more." He wasn't sure why he bothered, his service to her was complete and soon to be at an end. He owed her nothing and the way she shook when he spoke made him want to shake her with his hands.

' _Such weakness._ ' Blood loss and poison brought the proud Dremora to the ground and into the cold arms of unconsciousness.

* * *

Keelan was growing numb to surprises. Her face was covered in blood and vampiric ash. There was a dremora standing above her with a bared blade and a barbed warning hissing through his teeth. And if that were not enough; as if the gods had not had their fill of jests at her expense, that same towering, black frame took one step forward and then crumpled to the ground.

What could she do except scramble forward on her hand and knees to where he had fallen? To strain beneath the weight of a being taller than she and wearing armor thicker than aldmeri arrogance, just so she could roll him on to his back and check frantically to see if he was still breathing? He was and Keelan allowed herself only the briefest of relieved exhales. There was no time for anything else. She needed to get his armor off, to see where he was bleeding from and if anything internal had been pierced. No small task when you're trying to work out the maze of hooks and straps that secures daedric armor one handed.

A more level headed healer might have reasoned that healing their own wounds first would allow them to better assist someone else. Keelan was not level headed in that moment. She saw only a being who had fallen and needed aid. Her own broken hand wouldn't kill her but a lung punctured by a sword tip or broken rib? Now that would most certainly send her void crafted savoir to a swift grave. She couldn't let that happen.

Beneath her scrambling touch his helmet, gauntlets and cuirass were removed and set aside and it was only then that the reality of the situation began to encroach upon her thoughts. His skin was duskier than any Dunmer she'd ever seen and it made it hard to see where the worst of his wounds were. But what she could not see with her eyes she found through touch. The wounds on his abdomen were feverish beneath her fingertips. Angry gashes with rough torn edges, but they were relatively shallow and it didn't feel as if anything was broken inside. When she withdrew her hand there was the telltale scent of nightshade mingled with the coppery scent of blood. He'd been poisoned and she had nothing to counteract it.

With hands bloodied and numbing in the cold, Keelan cursed as loud as she dared. Why did every magical thing she touched go awry? She shoved the thought away and tried to warm her good hand in the heat of her breath before placing it back on the Dremora's quickly cooling skin. She pressed down on the wound and let the spell do its job, siphoning her energy and commanding his flesh to knit itself together once more. Not that she had much to give, a point made painfully clear when the golden light flickered once and died between her fingers.  
On trembling legs she pulled herself up and stumbled towards the broken fireplace. If she was going to save him... if she was going to save them both, she needed heat and a light to work by.

She found a lantern just outside the door and brought it inside, and it didn't take much searching to find flint and tinder. It seemed that whomever had sacked the place hadn't been there to steal so much as to slaughter. As if that much wasn't clear from the scorch marks on the walls and the blood stains on the floor. She caught sight of the half charred face of a man from beneath a pile of debris and shuddered. She didn't want to think about what had killed him. Whether the smoke and fire had suffocated him or if the air had been squeezed out of him by the heavy timber beam crushing his chest. There were other dead among the wreckage, some horrible dog beasts as well. She tried not to disturb them as she searched for supplies.  
When she'd found all she could, she set to work cleaning his wounds. Thankfully there had been a large cauldron not far from the fireplace, and although it had been agony to fill it with snow from outside, she'd managed. She'd also retrieved what items she'd been able to find quickly from her own scattered belongings. Only what she thought she'd need of course. She'd worry about her books and things only if she managed to survive this mess.

For his part, the Dremora didn't so much as stir the entire time she'd been on her little search. Probably for the best, because what she needed to do next was going to hurt like hell. She cleaned off what she could of the blood with water before reaching for a bottle of red wine she'd found down in the lower rooms. Dousing the cleanest cloth she had with the crimson liquor, she prayed to the Divines and pressed it down against the biggest of the gashes along his side. It had stopped bleeding for the most part and the poison he'd suffered from had been mostly destroyed thanks to her spell. If she could get him stitched up then he'd probably live to see dawn, how ever far away that yearned for sunlight was.

Fortunately, in his unconscious state the Dremora was being the perfect patient. Well almost. She'd only just pushed her needle through his skin when the Dremora grabbed her. A hand gripping her arm with all the surety and strength of steel. Only through force of will was she able to stay still and not jerk back and out of harm's way, her focus shooting from concentrating on her work to staring wide eyed at him. His face was twisted into a snarl and Keelan couldn't tell if it were meant as a threat or merely out of pain. But it was his eyes that rattled her the most. Not even the night sky could pour itself into such fathomless pools of pure obsidian. He started to say something, words lost in a half growl before those same pulse-stopping eyes rolled back into his head and his hand fell away from her. Keelan had taken a deep, shuddering breath and returned to her task.

By the time it was done, Keelan tried to stand and found she could not. Every time she tried to clear her blurring eyes by blinking she only found it harder and harder to open them again. It was its own little form of torture in away. It was all she could do to bandage him as well as she could and then throw the only blanket she'd found over him. Without strength nor coherent thought at this point, she pulled herself a little closer to the fire and tried to find a comfortable spot along the wall to lean against. She wasn't thrilled about the idea of spending the remainder of the night so close to corpses or with possibly more vampires in the area, but she also wasn't stupid enough to think she'd be safer outside. She'd have to make do.

While she awaited fatigue to sweep her off into sleep, Keelan watched her charge with a sort of detached curiosity. How could she not? She'd never seen an actual Dremora before. Well, at least not outside of artwork or books that delved into the Oblivion Crisis. Though she could tell that the artists had taken liberties with their subject matter, that was for sure.

For one thing, the male in front of her had hair almost as black as his eyes that would have fallen to just above his shoulders had it not been matted against his slick brow. Nothing new there, nor in the scarlet tattoos that covered a fair potion of his face. She couldn't tell from this angle if there was a pattern to the design or if it was simply meant to make his face more intimidating. If that were the case then it had only worked halfway.

The horns had also made it into the illustrations she remembered from her studies. There were four of them from what she could see, two that swept up and back from just behind his hair line and a larger, thicker set that curled around and down until the tips jutted out next to the start of his pointed jaw. In her near delirious state Keelan couldn't help but snicker, they looked like ram horns and once the thought had crossed her mind she couldn't un-see it.

All in all, there was a kind of exotic allure to him. Something that had been missing from the ink drawn monsters the tales revealed. It left her wondering what else those same books had been wrong about. After all, how often had her studies espoused the difficulties involved with summoning daedra to Nirn? Too many to count with her mind as fuzzy as it was. Of course, she was hardly an expert on the matter.

She snuggled into herself a little tighter, drawing her knees to her chest. Maybe she'd ask Moha or Mirabelle about it if she ever made it back to Winterhold. And it was with that thought that sleep finally took her.


End file.
